therobynbirdsnest

if you give a girl a shelf

Posted on February 9, 2018 by robynbird

Y’all know I’m a sucker for an around-the-house project. And with this unpredictable weather we’ve been having, icy days close school even though the ice turns to rain, which means I’ve had some time on my hands.
So…I decided to paint and add another shelf in the laundry room (closet?).

Years ago, YBW put up a shelf and hanging bar. But recently I realized how underutilized is the vertical space in there and decided we needed a second shelf.

And just like with If You Give a Mouse a Cookie, another shelf needs cute and practical storage bins, and while I’m at it, might as well paint. And I might need some fun laundry signs to go over the door…and so on…and so on.
Until at last…

Tada!

Cute, right?

Tuesday after school I got to painting.

Two good coats of Waterscape by Sherwin Williams (SW6470) and I rocked it!

Of course I had to do one last load of laundry before I could get started.

Y’all, that was one sad coat of builder grade paint up in there and the walls just soaked in the new paint.

Tuesday evening just after nine, we got the email that county schools would be closed Wednesday. Hot damn! That meant I could sleep in and finish all my laundry room work without interruption!
The drill/screw gun and I are total BFFLs. Up went the old shelf brackets. Up went the new shelf brackets. Boom! Shelves went up. Great washable storage bins on the shelves and lastly, hang the dryer shelf on the wall.

Two days of my time + approximately $60 = a gorgeously organized and functional place to perform my absolute favorite household chore.
Yassssss!
It’s good to be me.

Categories: me | Tags: around the house, children's books, decorative storage bins, home improvement, home organization, household chore, if you give a mouse a cookie, labor of love, laundry, laundry room, lowe's, paint, project, shelves, sherwin williams, snow day, Target | 6 Comments

the most exciting news…EVER!

Posted on February 8, 2018 by robynbird

Eeeeeeeeeee!
I can finally share the most exciting news I’ve ever had to share!
I’m going to be a grandmother!

I got a call from Thing 1 last week on Tuesday. I was walking out the door to go to school, she asked if I had a minute. I explained what I was doing so she said, she might need more time than that. Well, this got me worried. I immediately go into mommy-mode, is she OK? Is Husband N OK? Yes, yes everyone is OK she assures me. And all of the sudden I just knew!
I said, OHMYGOD! Are you pregnant!?!
She giggled and confirmed!

HAPPY HAPPY JOY JOY!!!!!
Of course I was sworn to secrecy. That makes sense to me, it’s her story to tell, and Husband N’s story to tell.
I was strictly forbidden to tell Aunt Sundance, and Aunt Sally in Charleston.
I was allowed to tell YBW. (Yeah, like that wasn’t gonna happen.)
However much I want to shout it from the rooftops, I made a promise to my girl and I’m going to keep it. She and her husband are entering into the trickiest place in life and need all the love and support they can get.
She’s since told her aunties and Husband N’s extended family.

Thing 2 found a way around the strict no-tell policy.

My Things have been talking to each other, and each of them to me even more so than normal. In one conversation, one or the other of them asked what I thought I might want to be called. I always said when I had grandbabies I’d want them to call me by my childhood nickname, Roby. I love the way it sounds when little children say it. Only now that I’m presented with a legit grandbaby, I’m not sure I’m feeling Roby any more. So, I’m made a list.
I mean of course I made a list…

Sent this to each of the girls. This one went to Thing 1, Thing 2’s had the word ‘thoughts’ written up the side.
My top three were Birdie, Lolly, and Mémé (we’ll choose to pronounce it may-may)
Thing 2 and Husband N voted for Mémé and Thing 1 and I are waffling between Lolly and Mémé.

My friend and mentor Jessica (Oh, I was allowed to tell her so she and I could confer regarding the most important parenting books Thing 1 and Husband N would need.) anyway, she suggested I go with Lolly and YBW could be ‘Pop’ and together, we’d be ‘LollyPop’! Gah! Cutest grandparent names EVER!
Only one problem…the Things’ father shared with me that he wants to be called Pop. Needless to say that put the kibosh on me being called Lolly. Sad face me…though I’m not sure I’m ready to cross it off the list.

YBW, first of all is almost every bit as excited as I am. Then the moment of pause kicks in and he says, “I’m not sure I’m ready to be a grandparent.” I figure it like this, he has two options, the first is to abstain from being this bebe’s grandfather, to which he said a resounding NO! The second option is embrace it and realize that even though we’re “only 47”, we’re completely ready and capable of being grandparents. That was his choice.
I keep asking him what he wants to be called, and asking his opinion of what he thinks I should be called. He’s struggling with that because in his experience, his first born named his grandmother by repeating a specific sound when he saw her. My experience is that with the exception of for the first two and a half years of Thing 1’s life, she called both myself and my mother Mommy, until she was finally able to say Grandmommy, she called everyone what they asked to be called.
I love how different families experience the same things differently.

Thing 1 has been struggling with morning sickness. And y’all, I mean struggling. It’s interesting, I was so sick with her from the moment I got pregnant twenty-four seven and for nearly six months. So much so, that twice I was hospitalized for dehydration and hooked up to an IV. Good times.
Sunday was a particularly bad morning for her.

Poor old Bear.

Sundance called me Mimi…I told her it’s not my name, so I don’t want her to get too attached to it.
Sally texted me last night now all I can hear is Laura San Giacomo’s voice.

My joy is honestly bigger than any joy I’ve ever experienced.
Marrying YBW with all the people we love most there to share our joy with us. And y’all, there was a room full of the greatest joy that day.
I wanted to be a mom from the time I can remember. Becoming a mom has brought me unbelievable joy. More joy than I ever expected, or ever deserved to experience.
But this. This is something else entirely.
My baby having a baby…
This is next level!

Categories: me | Tags: daughters, excited, expecting, grandmother, joy, love, new baby, secret, unconditional love | 6 Comments

let us treat self expression with respect

Posted on January 25, 2018 by robynbird

There will be those with differing opinions. And that’s fine with me.
Isn’t that what makes it interesting to be a human? To think and feel things that may be a bit different than the things thought and felt by the people you know?
I’ve learned so much about myself and the world by engaging in conversations of differing opinions.
Here’s the most important thing I learned.
It’s all about respect.
I respect your right to your differing opinions. I expect that same respect in return.
Easy peasy lemon squeezy right?
(Yeah, I know.)

I received a snapchat from my daughter two days ago. It amused me so. I was amused because I too have been where she was. I was also struck by the truth in it. Her truth. Where she was in that moment.
It was real. It was honest. And it was a true representation of her sense of humor.

I know the differing opinion folks might have something to say about her attitude or language. I know I would never have sent something like that to my own mother.
But my girl, she is different.
And I’m a different sort of mom.

Here’s the what.
Honest self expression is not always the simplest action. So if one can manage to speak their truth I say, Bravo! Sometimes that truth comes via opening credits of a television show and quippy language.
I was amused enough to take a screenshot.
At the time, I had no idea I’d be using it for a post, I just knew it was a perfect encapsulation of who my daughter is and why I love her.
It really does come down to respect. I respect her enough to encourage her self expression. She respects me enough to know that she can be herself with me.
And the respect from those of differing opinion to acknowledge that my daughter has an interesting way about her without judging it.

This is what I know.
Be respectful. (of yourself and others)
Speak your truth.
If you do the first, the second will be much simpler, no matter how you choose to express yourself.

Categories: on being a mom | Tags: acceptance of self, communication, healthy relationship, honest communication, laughter, love, menstruation humor, mothers and daughters, parenting, parenting with humor, relationships, respect, self expression, sense of humor, Sex and the City, speaking truths, truth, unconditional love | 1 Comment

“when I grow old I won’t forget to find them”

Posted on January 24, 2018 by robynbird

I am currently obsessed with this song.
I especially love her voice.
I find it fascinating partly because the lyrics are somewhat jaded yet feel almost hopeful at the same time.
I love that funky bass line…drew me right in.
Leaves me to wonder:
Don’t we all have certain things we pack up in boxes to bury deep down?
I can relate to the idea that home was never on the ground…most robin bird nests are built up high.
Or perhaps what they say is true? You can have roots and wings.

Either way, here’s Alice Merton with No Roots
Please listen responsibly.

Categories: me | Tags: alice merton, music, music that moves, nest, no roots, robin birds | Leave a comment

two birds and a squirrel

Posted on January 19, 2018 by robynbird

The girls and I have been talking about mother-daughter tattoos.

Thing 1 has two tattoos. Words on her wrist to remind her that she’s perfect just as she is, and an ankh on her back.
Thing 2 has several tattoos. Wings at her elbows, two that represent he love of folk punk music, and the symbol for chaos on the inside of her wrist.

I have one tattoo. I got it in the spring of 1998. It’s a ring of flowers around my left ankle.
I made a promise to myself that I’d only ever have one tattoo.
A promise I’ve kept even though I came up with the idea and have designed the most perfect tattoo. Know where I want it and why.
Inside my right wrist. Maybe three by three inches. A little Earth and a crescent moon and some stars.

When Thing 1 was a tiny girl, I told her I love her more than the whole wide world. But when Thing 2 was coming to join our family, I realized I would have to say something different to her, otherwise negate the first three years of Thing 1’s life. So I have always told Thing 2 that I love her more than the moon and the stars.
I’ve sat on this idea for several years. I even created this stained glass panel to placate myself.

(The solar system is a big deal to me, because when I began to love YBW, it was ‘all the way to Pluto and back’.)

We’ve talked previously of getting tattoos that represent each other, but recently we’ve begun talking about a specific matching mother-daughters tattoo.
Now, we’re probably still going to get our representative tattoos, mine of course will be the Earth, moon and stars.
Thing 2 has always said she wanted to get a little succulent plant to represent her sister. And she wants to have Kanga and Roo’s mailboxes to represent me.

When she was a little girl, she would climb into my lap and get all tiny and say, “You’re Kanga and I’m Roo in your pouch!”

Thing 1 and I haven’t had that specific of a conversation regarding tattoos that represent each other.

But then…I got an idea!

In a group text, I put to the girls and idea for our matching mother-daughter tattoos.
I suggested a robin bird, a magpie, and then another (yet to be determined) bird.
Thing 2 shot down the magpie idea straight away. (Turns out she’s the only one that doesn’t remember her Grandmommy calling her that.)
And we talked about other options.
Thing 1 suggested a squirrel and we all loved that idea!
Then Thing 2 suggested a hummingbird for her sister.
We were on a roll, y’all!

Thing 1 did a quick doodle and sent this pic.

(That squirrel though!)

Of course there will need to be discussion of colors and sizing and where on our bodies this ink will go. But we have some time for that. The next time we’ll all be together for sure is in June when Thing G graduates from high school. Though there is talk of being together in March for Thing 1’s birthday.
I know I’ll want mine to be small…and off the top of my head, I’m thinking maybe on my left forearm near my elbow. But who knows? Knowing how different we three girls are, it won’t be three identical tattoos in three identical spots. Only, I do hope the art itself is identical, otherwise it’s not worth having ‘matching tattoos’…
At the moment, we’re just in the planning stages.
Momma got an idea. Girls improved upon it. Art is being created.
More conversations will happen.

It’s curious to me that after nearly twenty years of keeping that one tattoo promise I’m blowing it out of the water with not one but two new tattoos in the works.
It’s time.
I’m ready to fulfill a new promise to myself, ink that represents the two loves of my life that will never change. And ink that we can share as mother and daughters.

Categories: on being a mom | Tags: art, birds, celebration, iedas, ink, love, mother daughter tattoos, mothers and daughters, robin bird, solar system, tattoos, Thing 1, Thing 2 | 3 Comments

b-i-t-c-h

Posted on January 18, 2018 by robynbird

Some days you just feel it.
Today is one of those days.
It’s going to be a great day.
“Ooh woo oooh”

This is Plastiscines with Bitch.
Please listen responsibly.

Categories: me | Tags: happy to be me, mood music, music, Plastiscines | Leave a comment

Husband N

Posted on January 16, 2018 by robynbird

I’ve mentioned before my daughter Thing 1 is married to Husband N. Now, Husband N is a patient human being, God love him, he has to be to be married to my daughter. He’s rather adept at accepting her for who she is without ever really “letting her off the hook”. I like that about him. They’re giving each other a run for their money, that’s for sure. But they’re doing it with so much love!

I received this text from him this morning.

When Mo died, I was choked by my own grief. I was in mommy mode about my girls and their grief. I was grateful that Husband N was there with Thing 1, but I never stopped to consider his grief. That man welcomed into their home, with open arms, the dogs of his wife’s childhood (well, teen age anyway). He was working with Mo to develop a healthy relationship, switching over from the Things father being Mo’s “father” to Husband N being Mo’s “father”.
He cared for Mo. He moved his lifeless body to the grave he and my daughter created. He did this out of love for their dog.
Their dog.
Even though Mo started out being all of ours, in the last five or six months he truly became theirs. Husband N loves Thing 1. He loves Thing 2. He loves me. But he also loves Mo. His grief was just as real as ours.
He was strong and brave for us.
I don’t have the words to express how strongly I felt the love for him this morning when that text came. I just hope he can feel it.

Now, it took me longer than it should have to decide to like, and then love Husband N. That had almost nothing to do with him and mostly everything to do with me (and Thing 1).
Thing 1 met Husband N when she went away to school. They met in a math class, bonding over their sarcastic senses of humor.
Now this is a meet-cute I can get behind.
What I struggled to get behind was her dropping out of school and shacking up with this guy.
That was not my plan for her! That wasn’t the life she was meant to have.
All I could see what that he’s older than she is, by more than a decade. That she left school because of him. That we didn’t know him from Adam.
I was frightened she was making all the same mistakes I made… a guy so much older than she is…no education…no way to support herself. I wanted more for her than the life I’d lived. I wanted her to be healthy and content and able to take care of herself. I didn’t want her to suffer and struggle.

Of course, what the hell did I know?
A whole lotta nothing, I’ll tell you that.

Turns out, Husband N is a kind and loving man. An intelligent man. A helpful and sincere man. A man who loves my daughter and would do (and has done) whatever it takes to make sure she’s safe and sound.

Y’all know that when YBW and I got married, his Things and my Things were our best men and maids of honor. The girls even “gave me away” that day. Thing 1 remarked to my friend and mentor, Jessica, that she had no idea how (emotionally) hard it would be to give her mom away.
Well, (not yet) Husband N and Thing 2’s then boyfriend were here too. And even though it was busy and a bit chaotic, I got to spend some good time with Husband N. And when YBW were driving to the airport to go to Barbados for our honeymoon, I turned to him, and said, “I like Husband N!” YBW was so relieved! He was waiting for me to decide to like Husband N because he very much liked him.

Then they came back for Christmas that year. And I got to spend even more time with him. I love his childlike enthusiasm! I listened to him and my daughter talk about what kind of life they wanted. And I realized it wasn’t the life Husband N wanted that Thing 1 just accepted, neither was it the life Thing 1 wanted that Husband N accepted. They had really thought about this. They had talked about it. They were planning this life that they wanted together!

They are truly each other’s best friend. They are both great big nerds about books and movies and comics and D & D and video games. They’re learning from each other how to appreciate these things the other brings to the table. They are so loving. They are also quick to get after each other. Each one feisty in their own way. They fight. They laugh. They play. They love. They do these things with the entirety of themselves. They give everything to each other and their relationship.
How could I possibly want more for my daughter? Or her sweet husband?

When they married, I was joyous for them! It wasn’t a big white wedding, but it was them. There was love and laughter and genuine joy surrounding them. This man is the husband of my very first girl. That was hard yet simple all in the same moment. I knew they could marry and build a life together and I wouldn’t have to worry about their ability to work together. I wouldn’t have to worry about their ability to love each other and embrace each other’s families.

Husband N just might love Thing 2 as much as her big sister does.
I know Thing 2 adores him.
They have such a special friendship.
I believe he’s been instrumental in helping my girls rebuild their relationship.
One more thing to love about him.

When his grandmother died and there was talk of them moving to her farm. Thing 1 was all for it. Husband N was a bit more hesitant. He called me and we talked for a long time. He shared his concerns. He asked my opinion. We talked about how he didn’t want to disappoint Thing 1, but felt so strongly that he didn’t want to raise (future) children where he grew up. He wanted more and better for them. (I can SO relate to that.)
I made some suggestions. I offered to speak with his wife. I promised to have their backs no matter what choices they made for their future.
I was touched he wanted to have that conversation with me. I was honored that he valued my opinion. I was pleased to be his (mostly) impartial sounding board for that important process.

I talk with my girls frequently. A phone call at least once a week, but there are texts and snapchats, emails and social media posts mixed in there too.
Husband N and I also text, snap and share things with each other’s social media. We sometimes even talk on the phone. It’s fun. He makes me laugh. He shares information he thinks I’ll be interested in. He expresses his concern for my health.
He expresses his love for my daughters and acknowledges how hard I worked to help them become the women they are.

Dude loves my girls.
Respects my hard work to help them become those ‘epic legends’.

I’m so grateful.
My girl chose well.
For herself.
For her sister.
For her Momma.
Husband N has his hands full with we three girls, but he takes it in stride.
Y’all we are so damn blessed!

Categories: on being a mom | Tags: blessings, family, gratitude, grief, husband, joy, life, love, parenting, Thing 1, Thing 2 | Leave a comment

What IS the appropriate idiom in this situation?

Posted on January 14, 2018 by robynbird

Yesterday my computer bought the farm.
Is that idiom even appropriate in this situation? I think not.
Honestly, I’d be better off saying my computer committed suicide.
Just up and died. Couldn’t even be bothered to leave a note.

The Pythons in my brain did an entire sketch about it.

“‘E’s not pinin’! ‘E’s passed on! This computer is no more! He has ceased to be! ‘E’s expired and gone to meet ‘is maker! ‘E’s a stiff! Bereft of life, ‘e rests in peace! If you hadn’t nailed ‘im to the perch ‘e’d be pushing up the daisies! ‘Is metabolic processes are now ‘istory! ‘E’s off the twig! ‘E’s kicked the bucket, ‘e’s shuffled off ‘is mortal coil, run down the curtain and joined the bleedin’ choir invisible!! THIS IS AN EX-COMPUTER!!”

(Now that’s a load of idioms!)

To say I was frustrated would be an understatement. Have y’all heard the expression “I’m about as frustrated as a crackhead without a lighter.”? Yeah…that was me.

Everything was lost. Every. Single. Thing.
All the words I’ve written in the last how-ever-many years.
All the music I’ve spent my lifetime accumulating.
All the photos I’ve taken in the last six years.

I was actually planning to back up all my stuff but my external hard drive is still filled with music for Thing 2 and I thought I had time…
A Willow quote comes to mind. “Irony’s kind of ironic that way.”
Even though this isn’t really irony.

I felt like Carrie Bradshaw.

My precious husband immediately stopped what he was doing and devoted his entire day to trying to suss out what he could salvage. Seriously y’all, that sweet man spent the whole damn day trying to rescue my photos, writing, and music.
I got after researching new computers on my ipad (mini).
A couple hours later, he was feeling pretty confident that he’d been able to get my documents and music, and was seeing what he could do to recover my photos.
HOORAY!
The day was saved…thanks to…the Powerpuff Girls!

No no no!
The day was saved…thanks to…YBW!

I then presented him with a couple laptops I thought I’d like. With a little ‘computer guru’ advice and some tweaking of what I thought I wanted, we narrowed it down to a choice of three. Braving the frigid temperatures, we went to Micro Center. Turns out after typing on all three, the one I thought I most wanted was the I liked least. (Y’all hear Willow’s voice again too, right?)

Today, I have a brand spanking new laptop upon which I will load and edit pics. And write. And listen to tunage. And read. And learn. And create. And shop. And all the other very Robynbird stuff.

YBW decided it wasn’t worth trying to see if he could reboot the old one.
Whole lotta “Bye Felicia.” going on there.
RIP Toshiba.

Dell, I think this is the beginning…well, y’all know the rest…

Categories: me | Tags: Buffy the Vampire Slayer, carrie bradshaw, casablanca, computer, computer crash, dead parrot sketch, documents, idioms, laptop, monty python, music, photographs, powerpuff girls, recover, Sex and the City, Willow Rosenberg, YBW | Leave a comment

Godspeed, Mo

Posted on January 11, 2018 by robynbird

Yesterday at 11:16 I received a text message from Thing 1.
This photo and these words.

Look at him just chillin! Sweet boy 🙂

Yesterday at 3:44 I received a phone call from Thing 1.
She was crying. She said, “Mo’s gone.

She said after they took that pic of him lying in the yard, they went for a walk, and over by their pond he wandered off into the woods, as he sometimes does. A bit later on she went to get the mail and found him in the road. He’d been hit by a car.

Mo was a miracle for our family at at time when we were in great change. The Things dad and I had just separated and the girls were living in two different places for the first time in their lives.
Thing 2 was obsessed with going every Saturday to adoption day at the pet shop. We went religiously. Never to “get” a pet always to look at the dogs and cats.
One particular Saturday we were walking past the dog crates in which all manner of dog was barking or acting a fool. With the exception of one dog.

This sweet dog was lying quietly in his crate completely ignoring the chaos around him. He looked up when we stopped and his little nubby tail started to wag. We three girls were enamored by this sweet boy.
(Y’all don’t know this about me, but I don’t like dogs in any way shape or form. I’m not a hater or anything, I just don’t like dogs.)
But this dog. This sweet boy. I feel in love with him. So did the girls.
There was much conversation about how we might adopt Mo. We liked that his name was Mo, not only did it suit him, it also went nicely with our last name.
I walked away from the girls and called their father at work. I told him that the girls were going to call him about a dog. He heaved the greatest of sighs. Then I said, “We need him.” That gave him pause. He knew that if I said that, this must have been some dog.

Well, we ended up adopting sweet Mo and he became part of our family. He mostly lived at their father’s house, but sometimes he lived with me too.
He was the sweetest, most neurotic thing you’ve ever seen. He had mad abandonment issues and fretted when we’d leave him to go to school and work.
Thing 2 took quite a shine to him, she researched online, and in books from the library, how best to love this quirky boy. She was enthusiastic to take him to the dog park to play with other dogs.

She was enthusiastic about taking him for long walks, especially down to the riverfront park where we could walk along the canal. One time, Thing 2, Mo, and I arrived just in time to watch the authorities pull a body from the river. Good times.

Mo was such a good loving dog. He was happy to belong to our weird family. We loved him so.
When it was time for me to move from SC to VA, Mo would lie on his big green pillow (which he stole from Thing 2’s bed) and keep me company while I packed box after box of books.

Just this fall, Mo and his “little sister” Sweetie moved from the Things father’s house to Thing 1 and Husband N’s. Being on the little farm gave them so much more freedom. They were able to rip and race and be silly doggies without disturbing any neighbors.
Of course, it was an adjustment. The dogs missed their dad. They missed Thing 2. But they were so happy with Thing 1 and Husband N. They were happy to be together and loved.

I’ve been hit by waves of sadness since I talked to my daughter yesterday. The tears come out of nowhere and choke me. I couldn’t breathe for the weeping when I told YBW the news last night. I’ve cried alone, I’ve cried with YBW. I’ve cried on the phone with each of my babies.
That sweet dog was more than just a dog we adopted one day. He was a gift for our family. We were able to love him and each other through the worst times and come out the other side better off.
I really do not like dogs. Mo is the only dog I’ve ever truly loved. He was so special.

When I was more calm after sharing the news with YBW, he got angry. He wanted to know how fast one must drive down a dirt road to hit and kill a dog. What kind of “stupid Georgia hillbilly” didn’t stop to help, but just kept driving.
His anger surprised me.
But he’s right.
There’s no excuse for that kind of driving. There’s no excuse for Mo’s death.

Thing 1 felt so responsible, felt that she failed at keeping Mo safe for our family.
I told her that it wasn’t her fault. That none of us blame her. That we’re so sorry it happened and she has to live through it.
Turns out Thing 2 told her the same thing…nearly verbatim.
She told me her father said that Mo was an old dog, thirteen or fourteen years old. And wasn’t it wonderful that he’d had such a lovely day? That he was healthy enough to run and play and lie in the sun. That he left this world a strong dog, not an old sick dog.
My heart thanks him for being a good dad to her in that moment.

Thing 1 and texted a bit last night when we no longer had the will to speak.

I called her a little while ago to check on her.
She told me she wished she hadn’t found him. That it would be easier for her to deal with if she hadn’t seen him. I understand that on the deepest level. I told her how proud of her I am. I told her she was a real adult yesterday, and that I understood it sucked more than anything. But she did it. She’s doing it now. She’s living though the grief and pain. She’s not looking around for someone more “adultier” than she is. She’s just doing what it takes to get through. That’s adulting.
She asked me to hug YBW and thank him for his anger. She said she wants to hang signs on the road. “Thanks for killing my dog, you f**king asshole.”
She has moments of tears, and moments of anger.
Mostly, she has love.
We all have love.
The love of a dog called Mo.

Categories: love, on being a mom | Tags: adulting, anger, death, family, grief, joy, love, mothers and daughters, pets, resnetment, sisters | 3 Comments

hopeful and organized beginnings

Posted on January 10, 2018 by robynbird

This papercrumbs post spoke to me this morning.
On this the tenth day of the new year I’m still feeling a bit off kilter. Of course the holidays were hectic and with the mad weather, getting into the back to school routine was shot all to hell. So it makes a kind of sense to me that I’m still in that ‘waiting for the new to begin’ feeling to kick in.

I’ve completely reorganized the kitchen cabinets, drawers, pantry, and laundry closet. I reorganized the linen closet. I feel so peaceful now that these things are finished. I’m serious y’all. I feel peacefully content down deep in my soul.
This organization is one small part in the beauty of beginning again. Perhaps it makes it simpler for me to begin again when I have the comfort of everything being orderly? Perhaps I just can’t handle perceived chaos?
Whatever the case may be, I do know this. I feel more ready to begin again since accomplishing those tasks. Even with the chaos of snow days, early dismissals, and delayed openings, I feel more able to get back into the swing of things at school too.

It occurs to me as I write this what’s beautiful about beginning again and again is that it feels hopeful. Hope that however tiny, each new beginning can bring adventure, or comfort, or a new way of learning, or something I may not have even though of yet!
When I feel hopeful, I’m inclined to begin again.
Sometimes a beginning blows up in your face. But with hope, you take what you needed from that beginning and decide to begin again a different way. Sometimes a beginning is more than you could have hoped for, and you have exactly what you want or need. You needn’t begin again, but you want to, to see what’s next.

To begin again and again, as many times as you want is really a gift. To begin after disaster is scary. To begin after perfection is also scary. Being scared is OK. Being scared is natural. But, it’s important to remember you always have hope in your pocket. To me the saddest thing is choosing not to begin because you’re scared. You don’t have to be brave to begin.
Just begin.
Bravery will come to you.
Hope will remind you that it’s in your pocket.
Begin.
You might fail. That’s OK too. Keep the important bits you needed and begin again.

In my life, I had many beginnings. I had some pretty epic failures. I have learned so much. I have been scared. I forgot hope was in my pocket. Or I found hope in the pocket of something when I wasn’t even looking.
I began again, and began again, and began again as many times as I wanted or needed. But mostly with prep work. Mostly organized. I do not function well in perceived chaos. I need to feel like I have a handle on the beginning.
Of course this isn’t always a perfect scenario, sometimes I must begin without being organized. That oftentimes leads to some sort of new mini beginning.
But that’s OK too.
I believe in the importance of beginnings.
I believe in hope.

In an excellent book about beginnings, Dr Seuss wrote:

“You have brains in your head. You have feet in your shoes. You can steer yourself any direction you choose. You’re on your own. And you know what you know. And YOU are the one who’ll decide where to go…”

and

“Out there things can happen, and frequently do, to people as brainy and footsy as you. And when things start to happen, don’t worry, don’t stew. Just go right along, you’ll start happening too!”

Each night promises a new morning. An opportunity to begin again. And again. And again. As many or as few times as you like.
Organize yourself.
Hold on to your hope.
You’ve got this!